


We Don't Talk About It

by Sirca



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirca/pseuds/Sirca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Fiona and Sasha find a way offworld, Rhys tries to make amends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Talk About It

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-Tales from the Borderlands. This was written in an attempt to reassure myself that this series is going to end on a happy note. Hints of Rhys/Fiona if you squint.

“Gimmie a minute!”

The doorbell rang again. And again. Whoever stood outside was pressing the button impatiently. With a loud sigh, Fiona flung open the door. She promptly stopped.

Rhys stood in the door frame. He looked much the same as he had since she’d last seen him. His haircut was still stupid. The cybernetic eye was a bright golden-yellow, and his arm was chrome. However, he looked like he hadn’t rolled out of his closet in the dark. For once, he actually matched well.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, her expression closed.

“House warming gift,” he responded, holding up a wrapped box and shaking it. He looked all too pleased with himself.

Fiona reached for the box, only for it to be snatched back out of her reach. Rhys’ grin widened. “You’re not going to give me the grand tour?

She sighed again, and for a moment considered not letting him inside. Though they’d made their peace on Pandora, they were still far from friends. After a tense moment, she stepped aside. “Alright. You want to look? Look. But you’re not wearing those shoes on my floors.”

Rhys’ shoulder brushed her as he passed. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. Instead, she closed the door.

“Oooh, nice place… and it has a view. Not an easy feat on Dionysus,” said Rhys, gesturing to her window. It overlooked the water, which shimmered beneath two moons. It was breath taking, but Fiona only crossed her arms.

“What are you doing here, really?” she finally asked.

He turned back to her, holding up the box again. “I told you, I’m—“

“Cut the skagcrap.”

Rhys’ lips twisted, and his brow furrowed. Fiona never told him how ridiculous he looked when he was mad. Maybe she should have. “I’m here because… things went down in a way I didn’t want them to. This is a peace offering.”

“A peace offering? Seriously?” she looked at the packaging. A pretty red bow wasn’t going to win her over.

“Yes, okay! Just hear me out, please?” at that, Rhys’ look of frustration became something different. His eyes flicked down. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

Fiona’s eyebrows rose. She never expected to hear an apology from Rhys. Not even after hearing his side of the story. Hyperion suits lacked honor and integrity. She’d thought him the same, given what they’d been through.

Then, her trademark smirk fell into place. “I’ll think about it. Show me what’s in the box, first.”

His answering smile was genuine. He held the box out, which she snapped up before he could change his mind. Fiona pulled the bow from the box, letting it drop to the floor. The lid came next, revealing the gift inside.

“A hat? You got me a hat?” she looked between him and the deep blue attire within the box. “You do know that house warming gifts are supposed to be things you use around the house, right?”

“Yeah… I almost got you another skillet. But I was afraid you’d swing it at my head. Again,” Rhys responded.

“Good point,” Fiona laughed, short and small, before placing the hat on her head carefully. She’d lost her other good ones. And it went well with the new blue streak of dye in her hair. “It’ll do.”

Rhys jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m… I’m glad it will.”

“Just be glad Sasha didn’t see you come here. She still hasn’t forgiven you,” Fiona continued. “Those antique guns she sells still work.”

“Is that what she’s doing now?” Rhys snorted. “I’ll be sure to steer clear.”

She ran her fingers along the soft material of the hat. Rhys lapsed into silence. For a moment, they both stood there. The ocean framed his figure.

Then, Rhys cleared his throat. “I should, uh, I should probably go now.”

“Thanks for the gift, Hyperion,” she said, though not without a little affection.

“Maybe I can drop by again sometime?” The look he gave her was more than a little hopeful.

“I guess. Whenever you’re not busy doing whatever it is you do now.”

“Senior Vice President of Securities Propaganda,” Rhys announced proudly.

Fiona did roll her eyes then. “Yeah, yeah.”

He made for the door. “They expect me to take weekend trips to Aquator anyways. I think Dionysus looks better.”

“Sure does,” Fiona tossed another look out her window.

When he reached for the door, he turned to give her a nod and a smile. “Fiona.”

“Rhys,” she responded.

“See you soon.”

And with that, he was gone. But not for long. He always had a bad habit of coming back.


End file.
